


Creme de la Creme

by themoonandmargot



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Smoshblr List Creations, strangers to best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 00:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: Monday nights are driving downtown, hands out windows, screaming the words to a song that belongs in your bloodstream… except it wasn’t always that way.





	Creme de la Creme

**Author's Note:**

> My lil fic for the first song in the Smoshblr List, Creme de la creme by Evalyn. This fic is also inspired by a [moodboard/AU](https://shaymiens.tumblr.com/post/187563663324) by @spookylegshayne on Tumblr. We need more Court/Dames content, is all I'm sayin'!!

The campus is dark when Courtney heads out for dinner.

With each step across the cracked concrete, she realizes just how heavy she feels—the absurd amount of paper in her bag, the gained weight from late-night microwave dinners, the coffee crash, the exhaustion. She’s thankful in some ways; she has to be, studying at her dream school.

But really, she’s most grateful that it’s too dark out for anyone to see her lose her fucking mind.

It’s acknowledged, then. She’s not okay. She didn’t want to be  _ not okay, _ and for a long, record-breaking time, she actually was fine. Courtney knows best of all, though: the stress-free streak only lasts so long.

So she collapses on a bench outside, just a turn away from the warm lights of the dining hall, and cries. Nothing heavy, nowhere near a sob. But there are enough tears for it to blur her vision, for her to panic that maybe the couple sitting on the bench across from her can sense her weakness from thirty feet away. She dries the tears into her jacket sleeve and chants reassurances under her breath— _ you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay _ —then she looks back to the couple at the bench.

The breeze whips at her hair, leaves her cold. And the chants turn from  _ you’re okay _ to  _ you’re alone, you’re alone, you’re alone, _ until–

“Uh, hey, is everything alright?”

Courtney snaps her head up to see a figure backlit in the scant campus lighting. It’s the boy from Music Appreciation, the one who cracks too many jokes and talks about video games too loudly. A jumble of sounds spill from Courtney’s mouth as she swipes the last tears off her face and attempts an explanation. “Hi, uh, yeah, I’m just…” She laughs, embarrassed. “...having a moment.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there for a second and watches her compose herself. Courtney thinks he might be taunting her somehow (in fact, she starts hating him for it), until he shifts the weight on his feet and finally speaks. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, voice soft.

More non-word sounds. “I… no… What’s your name again?”

“Damien.”

“Damien,” Courtney echoes, “no, I swear I’m fine, I just… I’m just sort of stressed out right now, y’know? College stuff…”

“Well, yeah,” Damien says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. It makes Courtney self-conscious, makes her hate him again. He could at least do something other than stand around and kick pebbles underneath his shoe. But Courtney must be desperate, because the longer he stays there, the more she thinks that he actually wants to help. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, bending his knees a little to meet Courtney’s eyes.

The tears well up again, a little bit when Damien takes the spot next to her on the bench, then a lot when she finally decides to speak. “God, it’s  _ so  _ dumb, but… I have a huge project due in two days,” she sighs. “And I’ve been so swamped with classes and work that I only really had the chance to start it today. So for all of today, literally six hours of the day, I was working on this stupid thing, only to text my classmates and realize at fucking nine at night that I had been doing it all wrong from the beginning… So I’m just…” Courtney grunts, swatting at her face. “Ugh, sorry. This is stupid. It’s my fault, anyway, for not reading the directions right…”

“Ah. I mean, hey, it’s a human mistake,” Damien says. “It sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Courtney sniffles. “Feels like it, though.”

“I’m sure it does. But there’s always tomorrow, right?” Damien smiles when Courtney turns to him. “Like, literally. You have until Wednesday, yeah?”

“Yeah, and Tuesdays are my busiest days,” Courtney groans, burying her face in her hands. “I just wish I had actual free time. Like, I wish I could sit around and do nothing without feeling bad about myself, y’know?”

Damien hums in understanding. The silence wagers on, and it’s exactly what Courtney was expecting out of this talk—dead air and another stranger to carry her baggage. She slumps in her seat, ready for Damien to hit her with one last  _ that’s rough, buddy _ before never talking to her again, but then: “So do you want to go out tonight?”

Like that, the world slows to a stop.  _ “What?” _ Courtney furrows her brows. “Go out? Like... you and me?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m not cool enough to stake out a random house party on a Monday night, but I have a car. We can drive around town, listen to whatever my radio can pick up… maybe grab some tacos from Roberto’s down the street?” Damien must read the confusion (and slight fear) across Courtney’s face, because he quickly adds, “Feel free to say no if it’s too weird of an invitation, or if you’d rather just collapse in bed, like I get it–”

“No,” Courtney blurts before dipping her head in gratitude. “I… would really appreciate that. Thank you.”

A smile stretches across Damien’s lips. “No problem, I’m glad you’re down. Let’s go, then.” He gets to his feet, urging Courtney to follow suit. Soon enough they’re marching across campus, already a good distance away from the bench, when Damien turns back to Courtney. “Wait, let me just make sure before I slip up and make things awkward: it’s Courtney, right?”

Courtney nearly melts into the pavement.  _ He doesn’t even know my name and he’s still so nice to me. _ “Right, yeah,” she says, cracking her first genuine smile of the night. “It’s Courtney.”

Damien nods and beams. “Cool. Nice to meet you, Courtney.”

Courtney snorts, bashful, before shooting him an appreciative grin. “Nice to meet you, too, Damien.”

It’s strange, this turn of events. Courtney realizes it along the walkway to the parking garage, as she listens to Damien prattle on about the classes they have together, about the classes they don’t. It’s an incredibly normal conversation under abnormal circumstances. It’s a weird sort of stability. It’s something new, already erasing the embarrassing, ever-human breakdowns of the past. Courtney merely hides her hands from the night chill and pretends she isn’t silently thanking each steady breath she can muster.

And yes, the campus is still dark when she heads out for dinner. But Courtney finds it’s easier to navigate with a friend at her side.


End file.
